“No, sir, no,” said Betty, as she stood on tiptoe and held her cheek to the Major. “You haven't a chance when your grandfather's by. There, I'll let you carry the sleeping draught for Aunt Pussy; but my flounces, no, never!” and she ran past him and slipped into the carriage beside Mrs. Ambler and Miss Lydia. In a moment Virginia came out under an umbrella that was held by Jack Morson, and the carriage rolled slowly along the drive, while the young men stood, bareheaded, in the falling snow. “Keep a brave heart, Morson,” said Champe, with a laugh, as he ran back into the house, where the Major waited to bar the door, “remember, you've known her but three hours, and stand it like a man. Well I'm off to bed,” and he lighted his candle and, with a gay “good night,” went whistling up the stair. In Dan's bedroom, where he had crowded for the holidays, he found his cousin, upon the hearth-rug, looking abstractedly into the flames. As Champe entered he turned, with the poker in his hand, and spoke out of the fulness of his heart:-- “She's a beauty, I declare she is.” Champe broke short his whistling, and threw off his coat. “Well, I dare say she was fifty years ago,” he rejoined gravely. “Oh, don't be an utter ass; you know I mean Virginia.” “My dear boy, I had supposed Miss Lydia to be the object of your attentions. You mustn't be a Don Juan, you know, you really mustn't. Spare the sex, I entreat.” Dan aimed a blow at him with a boot that was lying on the rug. “Shut up, won't you,” he growled. “Well, Virginia is a beauty,” was Champe's amiable response. “Jack Morson swears Aunt Emmeline's picture can't touch her. He's writing to his father now, I don't doubt, to say he can't live without her. Go down, and he'll read you the letter.” Dan's face grew black. “I'll thank him to mind his own business,” he grumbled. “Oh, he thinks he's doing it.” “Well, his business isn't either of the Ambler girls, and I'll have him to know it. What right has he got, I'd like to know, to come up here and fall in love with our neighbours.” “Oh, Beau, Beau! Why, it was only last week you ran him away from Batt Horsford's daughter. Are you going in for a general championship?” “The devil! Sally Horsford's a handsome girl, and a good girl, too; and I'll fight any man who says she isn't. By George, a woman's a woman, if she is a stableman's daughter!” “Bravo!” cried Champe, with a whistle, “there spoke the Lightfoot.” “She's a good girl,” repeated Dan, furiously, as he flung the other boot at his cousin. Champe caught the boot, and carefully set it beside the door. “Well, she's welcome to be, as far as I'm concerned,” he replied calmly. “Turn not your speaking eye upon me. I harbour no dark intent, Sir Galahad.” “Damn Sir Galahad!” said Dan, and blew out the light. II BETTY DREAMS BY THE FIRE